


We're Gonna Need a Bigger Couch

by flootzavut



Series: Jaws [4]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, who needs a dog if you have Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:38:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5339456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootzavut/pseuds/flootzavut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which it turns out the shark is less of a shark and more of a puppy</p><p>NB: no sharks or special agents were harmed in the writing of this story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Gonna Need a Bigger Couch

* * *

_**We're Gonna Need a Bigger Couch** _

* * *

 

Waking up with a warm, heavy weight on his chest and a nose full of fur hadn't happened to Tim since he'd had to give Jethro away.

He'd rather missed it, but he couldn't figure out the logistics of it recurring. His sleep befuddled brain was reasonably sure he hadn't adopted another dog in the meantime. And anyway, it seemed unlikely for a dog to go and retrieve a comforter from the bed, never mind tuck it in around him.

Then the weight shifted and made a decidedly human noise, and Tim nodded.  _Oh, different species_. Better species, in some ways, though he still missed the unqualified, unconditional adoration of his canine buddy.

He peeled one eye open and looked down, and then suddenly he was very, very awake, because he recognised the hair and the snore and  _ohshitohshit I slept with Tony_.

His head fall back, his mouth gaping open in shock, and then he forced the panic down and stared hard at the ceiling, trying not to move any more than was absolutely necessary, trying not to wake Tony up.

After being soundly ignored last night, his common sense was getting its own back. He could feel his face turning bright red as he remembered, all the kissing,  _so_  much kissing, then Tony's unexpected visit and even less expected admission, and yet more kissing and...

 _Oh, God_. None of it made any sense, unless it was some ruse dreamed up to mess with his head. And Tony wouldn't give him a (really shockingly good) blowjob just to sell a spectacular practical joke, would he?

... Actually, he probably would.

 _Oh God. What was I thinking?_  He screwed his eyes shut again. This was bad. This was so very bad.

He ran through the evening, trying to work out what kind of game Tony was running, and - well, the weird thing was that although logic demanded this was some kind of wind-up, and any second Tony would leap up and yell 'Haha, got you, I  _knew_  you weren't straight!', it really hadn't felt like a joke. It didn't feel like a joke when Tony ran a finger over his cheek with such tenderness. It definitely didn't feel like a joke when (he swallowed at the memory) Tony kissed his way down Tim's chest and stomach and-

"Fuck."

It  _definitely_  hadn't felt like a joke when he'd watched his cock disappear into Tony's mouth, or when Tony had looked up at him with dark eyes as he sucked away Tim's sanity.

And it hadn't felt like a joke when Tony'd pressed him down into the couch cushions afterward and kissed him like he was a tall glass of water and Tony was dying of thirst.

His common sense pointed out to him, not very politely, that thinking about this was just going to send all his blood back to have a party in his crotch, but he couldn't seem to  _stop_. Tony, all uncharacteristically nervous and self-conscious, admitting it meant something to him. Tony confessing he'd had an ulterior motive for dragging Tim into the evening's shenanigans.

Tony  _apologising_.

Tony's hands sliding up under his t-shirt, over his ribcage, then down into his boxers to caress his ass. Tony peeling him eagerly -  _eagerly_  - out of the last of his clothes, and grinning, happy and goofy, like a kid who got exactly what he wanted for Christmas.

"Oh God." He wasn't actually sure which option was more terrifying, the practical joke or the possibility Tony was being absolutely straight (this time the internal manic laughter leaked out a little) with him.

He needed more time to think, but life is rarely fair. There was a rumble against his chest, then a sigh, and Tony was nibbling the side of his neck and humming contentedly.

"'Morning, McLicious," he mumbled into Tim's skin, his arm tightening around Tim's waist.

Apparently, Tony was  _fine_  with waking up this way.

"Um. Good morning."

"Mmmm." Yep, Tony sounded decidedly happy about this, and Tim's body agreed, even if Tim's mind was having a total meltdown.

"Uh, Tony?"

"Yeah?" It was a low, rough murmur, then Tony nipped gently at Tim's earlobe. Tim shuddered, his eyes slipping closed, a whimper escaping despite his best efforts.

"Um." Okay, Tony was  _way_  too good at this. Any lingering doubts Tim had about the truthfulness of Tony's many exploits were rapidly dissipating.

He knew Tony as well as he'd ever known anyone, was painfully aware of Tony's penchant for practical jokes and one night stands, and despite all his inside information it was  _still_  taking everything he had, as Tony worked his way along Tim's jaw, not to jump him and screw the consequences.

Some defenceless girl (or guy, apparently, which was still pretty tough to get his brain around) who didn't know Tony? They could be forgiven for losing their minds.

Tim  _meant_  to say something, to stop this, he really did, but his timing was off, and he opened his mouth just in time to accommodate Tony's lips and Tony's tongue, and  _oh. my. God_. it hadn't just been a freak accident how good it was last night.

His mind was still having kittens, was insisting he move,  _now_ , was getting rid of Tony and then having a cold shower during which he emphatically did  _not_  think about Tony's mouth while jerking off, but his body had other ideas. And currently his body was winning.

Tony moved more fully on top of him as the kiss deepened, and the unfamiliar sensation of muscles and chest hair and one more very happy cock than he was used to waking up with was what it took to finally make him try and claw back some control.

"T-Tony?" he managed to stutter, his voice muffled. "Tony, please!"

Tony slowly withdrew, though not before licking deep into Tim's mouth and sucking on his bottom lip until he whimpered again.

He was breathing heavily by the time Tony was done, and it took him a second to force his eyes open and look up into Tony's face.

"Hey, Timothy no-middle-name McGee." Tony's smile was lazy and warm and affectionate, and his fingers were in Tim's hair and sweeping gently over his face, and the overall impression was of a man who was  _smitten_.

(This impression was backed up by the erection still mashed unsubtly against Tim's.)

The idea Tony 'I have a single bed for a reason' DiNozzo could be smitten with  _anyone_  was quite... startling. The only time Tony had ever shown any sign of wanting or being capable of smittenness it'd turned out to be an undercover assignment.

Tim really didn't have the beginning of a clue what to do when the smitten look was aimed at  _him_. It was somewhere about a million miles beyond confusing and accelerating fast.

"Hi, Tony," he managed. It wasn't that he didn't like Tony, he  _did_ , but he'd never considered doing  _this_  with him... had never considered doing it with a guy at all. And it wasn't that it hadn't been good because... God, it really  _had_  been. But... "I, um." It was all a bit... unexpected.

Tony tilted his head to one side. "You freaking out, man?"

Tim opened his eyes as wide as possible and nodded furiously.

"'Cause it's a guy or 'cause it's me or 'cause it was a bit of a shock?"

Tim nodded again.

"All of the above?"

Tim cringed apologetically and nodded a third time.

To his intense relief, Tony merely nodded and shrugged. "Okay."

He didn't look wildly thrilled at the reaction, but not pissed, either. More just resigned, like he'd been expecting it. And he wasn't running for the door or yelling 'Gotcha!', both of which Tim had considered serious possibilities, so at least sleeping together and then kind of losing it the next day hadn't instantly smashed their friendship into teeny tiny bits.

Tony propped his chin on one hand. The other touched Tim's lips with the kind of tenderness he hadn't realised Tony even had  _in_  him.

Even in the midst of the existential crisis and too many erections and 'But I'm straight!' and the overriding 'Oh my God I slept with  _Tony_?' of it all, Tim couldn't deny part of him was sort of secretly...  _thrilled_. He wasn't sure he could trust it,  _still_  half expected this to be some really spectacular prank, but he couldn't help basking a little in the unfiltered adoration.

"I know this is sorta weird for you, Tim-"

"Sort of?" he grumbled.

"-and it was probably a really stupid way to go about it, but I'm not smart like you, I'm just a dumb jock-"

"You're not dumb."

Tony blinked a few times. "What?"

"You're not dumb, Tony."

There was a moment of complete silence, and Tony blinked again.

 _Huh_. Apparently it was Tony's turn to be speechless. And... embarrassed?

"Oh. Okay." Yeah, he definitely looked embarrassed. "I guess... I kind of always felt, you know, kind of stupid. In comparison. With all your degrees and stuff."

Tim found himself grinning. "Tony, you're a lot of things, but you're not stupid. Annoying, definitely. Often inappropriate. Loud.  _Really_  loud. Totally lacking in subtlety, generally speaking. Kind of an idiot, with the emotional maturity of a whelk. And possibly crazy." He cocked an eyebrow. "But I've never thought you were  _stupid_."

Tony grinned slowly. "Can I have that in writing?"

"Not in a million years."

"Well, can't blame me for trying." He shrugged. "Still probably didn't handle this the best way ever."

Tim gave him the best Gibbs-type 'ya think?' look he could muster.

"Sorry."

"Just, in future, if you could maybe consider talking to me about stuff instead of torturing me, that would be good."

"Noted." Tony grinned a little more, giving Tim the kind of hopeful look he used to get from Jethro when he saw the lead come out or heard the word 'walkies'. "Am I forgiven yet?"

"I'm thinking about it."

"What does that mean in terms of having more sex?"

"Tony!"

He pulled a face. "I guess that means you wanna talk?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Well, considering we work together and I only just found out you even like guys, and hey, I only just found out  _I_  like guys-"

"You do?" If Tony was a dog, thought Tim, his ears would have just gone full vertical.

"Maybe. I'm still figuring this out. Gimme a break, Tony, it's only been twelve hours."

"Don't suppose you feel like making out in the meantime?"

"Tony!"

Tony sighed and gave him the sad puppy face. "I'll take that as a no."

Tim resisted the urge to pat Tony on the head or possibly scratch him under the chin. "Take it as 'You just dropped a huge bomb in our private and professional lives and I need to process it', okay?"

Another sigh. "Okay." A pause. "'Our'?"

It was Tim's turn to blink in confusion. "'Our' what?"

"You just said 'our'. Our lives. Not my life or your life."

Tim blinked some more. "Oh." It was weird how easy and natural it felt to put it that way. "I did, didn't I?"

Tony nodded vigorously. Tim couldn't help being a bit touched. This kind of eagerness to become an 'us' wasn't his usual experience of dating. Not that he and Tony were dating, he assured himself. But he was more used to being the wanter, not the wanted.

If he'd ever suffered a severe head trauma and found himself imagining weird and unlikely things, like dogs learning to speak or Gibbs taking up crochet, and he'd imagined the possibility of him and Tony ever becoming more than friends, it would never have occurred to him to imagine Tony as the one who wanted more, the needy one. Which was strange, because Tony could be pretty damn needy at times.

He'd just never imagined Tony needed  _him_.

(He'd never imagined he'd make Tony come all over his hand, either, but somehow that was much less strange than being needed.)

Tony's free hand was stroking over his chest, slow and thorough, and it was completely distracting in a really enjoyable way. And the way Tony was looking at him - all big, wanting eyes and mussed hair and half open mouth... Tim had always assumed he was basically straight, hadn't really felt the need to experiment or explore, so how was it Tony, of all people, had suddenly turned from an annoying if loveable man-child into someone who could make his nerve endings fizzle?

Times like these, Tim  _really_  hated being the sensible one. But someone had to be, and he had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't going to be Tony. He rolled his eyes at his own sarcasm, tried to block out the way his body was reacting, and took a deep breath. "Um. How's this going to work?"

Tony grinned evilly, and Tim cursed himself for not being a bit - okay, a  _lot_  - more specific.

"Well, Timmy, when two men like each other very much-"

" _Tony_." He asked himself again why he was even contemplating this, and had no good answer. But he still was.

"I'll be happy to continue your education anytime, McYum." Tony's grin got wider, and his hand moved lower over Tim's stomach, slow and teasing. "You just say the word."

" _So_  not what I meant."

Tony's hand moved still further down, and Tim clamped his fingers around Tony's wrist just like he had last night, except this time he managed a strangled 'Please!' to go along with it. He needed to keep Tony's hands away from his cock, and Tony's lips away from his mouth, long enough to at least begin the conversation.

"Spoilsport."

Tim took a deep (if rather shaky) breath. Okay, he needed to start this quick, before Tony could start kissing or touching him again.

"What would we do about - you know, work and stuff?" he managed.

"Well..." Tony chewed on his lip. Tim tried unsuccessfully not to stare. "You know, I've been thinking about this," Tony continued earnestly, "and I'm afraid it's gonna  _seriously_  eat into the time we could otherwise spend making out and having sex. But I guess it can't be helped."

"Tony, could you get your mind out of the gutter for five minutes?"

Tony looked thoughtful for a few moments, then shook his head. "Gotta be honest, Tim, probably not." He smiled brightly. "I have a shortlist of places on the Navy Yard I'd like to push you up against the wall and make your head fall off, but I think that's about as work related as I'm gonna get on a Saturday morning with you naked."

Tim was fairly sure his blush stretched from the roots of his hair at least down to his nipples. At least Tony making  _him_  blush, no matter how embarrassing, was some kind of a return to the natural order of things. It felt normal. Insofar as anything felt normal right now.

And admittedly, even as he frowned at Tony disapprovingly, he was wondering exactly how long Tony had been thinking about this, how many locations he'd considered, and how much more enjoyable a day at work could be if it involved impromptu kissing and possible orgasms.

"You're a pain."

"I know," Tony agreed cheerfully, then, "McGee?"

"Mmhm?"

"Don't pout, McGee."

"I'm  _not_  pouting."

"Oh, but you  _are_ , McSulk. It's not compatible with the concentration you're expecting from me, it makes me want to do-" Tony bent down as he spoke, and then he was sucking on Tim's bottom lip again, and Tim groaned. Oh, this was not good for his sanity at  _all_.

Rule twelve? Who gave a shit about rule twelve?

Tony tilted his head and instead of sucking on Tim's lip, he was licking it and nibbling it, and then they were kissing again and-  _Oh, screw it_. They'd figure out the fine detail later.

When they resurfaced, Tony was grinning, absurdly pleased with himself.

"I like it when you pout," he said.

Tim shook his head. "If this is all some kind of elaborate prank, Tony, I swear to God-"

Tony's expression fell, and it cut Tim off mid-sentence.

Tony didn't look like he'd been caught - which Tim had still been half expecting - but he didn't look hurt or angry, either, he looked... sad. Really, really sad all of a sudden.

"Tim, I wouldn't-" He glanced away for a second, and when he started speaking again his voice was low and earnest. "Look, I know I've done some shitty stuff over the years, Tim, but I do care about you. I mean - not just like you and want to get in your pants, but, you know...  _care_  about you." He shook his head. "I wouldn't do that to you. Couldn't."

Tim searched his face. Tony always had been good at words, at twisting them and turning them around, but his face, so expressive and mobile and ever changing... Tim knew how to read that.

"You actually mean that, don't you?" he said in wonder.

Tony looked a little bewildered, like he didn't completely understand the question. "Well... yeah."

"Oh."

"I told you, Tim, you're one of my-" He paused, shook his head again. "Who am I kidding? You're my best friend, Tim. You're  _it_. You're who I call when I need help, you're the person I trust to have my back when the bad guys are firing at me, you're the one I think about when I wonder if I truly matter to anyone." He shrugged. "Nothing will ever change that, Tim.  _Nothing_. You know me." He smiled ruefully. "Loyal as a Saint Bernard and even harder to lose."

"Even if I kick you out now and you never get in my pants ever again?"

Tony nodded. "Even then. Tough luck. If you wanted to get shot of me, Tim, you needed to start about three years ago. 'S  _way_  too late now." He winked. "Of course, I can't necessarily promise I'll  _stop_  trying to get into your pants, you do realise that, right?"

Tim grinned, suddenly feeling warm and happy and unexpectedly calm. "Good," he whispered, and then he was wrapping a hand around the back of Tony's neck and pulling him down and planting a kiss on his mouth, which went rapidly from shocked to smiling to kissing Tim right back.

And yeah, it was still weird to have hard muscles and chest hair pressing him down into the cushions, and the only cock he was used to feeling against his thigh was his own, but it was a  _good_  weirdness, a weirdness he was suddenly certain he could absolutely learn to live with. Was, in fact, a whole lot more enjoyable and - damnit -  _sexy_  than he was ever,  _ever_  going to let on.

(Though he suspected his erection might give him away.)

"Are you sure?" Tony murmured, between kisses. "Tim, you don't have to do this if you don't want to, I don't-"

"Tony?"

"Hmmm?"

He allowed himself a smirk. "Shut up and let me kiss you."

Tony shut up and let Tim kiss him.

_~ fin ~_


End file.
